


who's this, goin' for the kiss

by trishapocalypse



Series: what happened to just messin' 'round? [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: (kind of like matty ties harry up with his bandana so yeah), Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, phone sex? kind of, there's some angst and a lot of george being ridiculous awesome?, they smoke weed w/e, ummm i feel like there's more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 20:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“And it’s not like—it’s not like I want to <b>come out,</b> or anything. I’m not… I don’t know what I am. I just like him.”</i>
</p><p>(Or: Harry's pretty sure it's no longer just a bit of fun, and he doesn't know what to do about that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	who's this, goin' for the kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is the third (and probably final) installment, whooooo. (Maybe. I don't know. Why am I cheering? This is rubbish.) I tried to keep events and tour dates as close to accurate as possible, ranging from December to February, but let's just do a broad "timelines be damned, dates have been changed/altered because ~creativity~ so just ignore, like, actual timelines and events if they don't add up or something, yeah? Brilliant. Massive, massive thank you to my darling Kate, because even if she gives herself no credit, I give her _a lot,_ because she essentially gave me the idea for the entire fic (again/like normal). (Also, apologies to anyone who may have the twitter handles used in this fic. I don't think anyone does, but--just in case.) I'm pretty nervous about this part, more so than normal, not sure why. Whatever, it's rubbish, and I'm sorry if you're reading this, because it's not good, haha. However, you're here, so thank you, and enjoy? If you can. You're wonderful.
> 
> [tumblr](trishanthemum.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/trishapocalypse)

_exactly how many shirts did you take from my flat?_

**can I plead the Fifth on that even if I’m not an American? xx**

_don’t think so._

Harry grinned as he settled back against the couch, propping one of his legs over the back. He snuggled back against the cushions as Niall plopped down next to him, picking up his leg and putting it over his lap. The rest of the lads made their way into the room loudly, Louis hitting Harry in the face with a pillow before face planting onto the couch opposite of him. Harry rolled his eyes before looking back towards his phone.

**not sure then. just a couple? how’d you know? xx**

“If I have to see you with that stupid smile on your face—“

“Shut it, Lou,” Harry interrupted softly. He wasn’t even annoyed, not really, he was used to Louis and his comments. And he probably had a point because all of the other lads at one time had mentioned his _Matty smile._ But—Harry wasn’t a child, he wasn’t, and—okay, maybe he had to make more of a conscious effort to reel it in. 

“You haven’t seen him in two weeks,” Louis pointed out. “Is he even your boyfriend?”

Harry shrugged. “We’re not using labels.”

“You? Harry Styles? No labels?” Louis asked.

“Give it a rest, Lou,” Niall told him, patting Harry’s leg. “If the lad’s happy, who cares?”

“I care!” Louis told him with a pout. “He’s our best mate. We have to look out for him. We have to make sure this nefarious Matty—“

“Nefarious?” Zayn interrupted with a laugh. “Define it, Lou. I will pay you fifty quid to define it.”

Louis paused before shaking his head. “I don’t need your fifty quid, Zayn, I’m a millionaire,” he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“I don’t think he could anyway, mate,” Liam mock whispered to Zayn as he walked past the couch to get a bottle of water.

“You couldn’t either, Li,” Louis snapped. 

“I can settle this now,” Niall said. “Harry, is Matt a drug dealer who…breaks people’s kneecaps and threatens to have them sleepin’ with the fishes?”

“No.”

“Has he ever touched you inappropriately without your consent?” Niall asked.

Harry laughed loudly, reaching up to push his hair out of his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Has he ever murdered a man? Hidden a body in a rock quarry?”

“The answer is still no.”

“Oh, really?” Niall sent Louis an approving look. “Is he hiding a wife and kids somewhere in London?”

Harry hesitated. “Erm, I don’t think so?”

Niall nodded. “Lovely. He seems like an alright chap to me. When can we meet him?”

Harry shrugged. “Not sure,” he replied quietly. “M’not even sure when I’ll see him again. Our schedules are really tight.”

“Ah, yes, we know all about tight schedules,” Louis commented. 

“Yeah, well, maybe we all could go to dinner or something?” Harry suggested. “Whenever we’re in the same city, of course.”

“I’d like that,” Liam said, walking towards the couch Louis was on and sitting down on his legs.

“Ow!” Louis pouted, trying to kick him off and failing.

Liam laughed. “He seems like a good bloke.”

“He is,” Harry agreed.

“Who cares?” Zayn said, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Niall and handing him a bag of crisps. “He good in bed?”

 

+

 

**you free? need to talk if you have a mo. xx**

_something wrong? ‘bout to go onstage._

**call me after? if you can. xx**

_will do._

Harry groaned as he tossed his mobile aside; it bounced off of the couch and fell to the floor, causing Harry to roll his eyes and sigh. He kicked his boots out of the way and fell face-first onto the couch, letting out a groan that was so dramatic even Louis would’ve been proud. He blindly reached for a pillow, tugging it over his head in a pathetic attempt to hide from the world. He barely heard the door open and he frowned, reaching an arm out to wave the person away. “Go away. Harry isn’t here.”

“I see you on the couch, mate.”

“Go away, Leemo,” Harry said quietly.

Liam walked towards the couch and sat down on the floor next to Harry, reaching out to rub a hand down his back. “Y’alright there?”

“No,” he snapped. 

“Wanna talk?”

Harry sighed, shoving the pillow off of his head and sitting up quickly, causing Liam to sit back. He opened his mouth to say something, then paused, shaking his head. “No.”

“You say no but it kind of sounds like yes,” Liam said softly. “Did Matty do something?”

Harry scoffed. “No,” he told him, hesitating again. “Actually, yes. Do you see this?” he asked, reaching towards the collar of his striped shirt, tugging it down so Liam could inspect the bruises littered across his neck and collarbone. “Do you see this?” he repeated.

Liam cleared is throat and nodded. “Bit hard to miss.”

He laughed bitterly. “A _bit,_ yes,” he said with a sigh. “I like him, you know.”

“I know,” Liam said with a nod. 

“And it’s—it’s so _stupid,_ Li. I got yelled at because of this, you know? I mean, I didn’t tell them who it was, it’s not—it’s not like _that._ But they’re—“ he trailed off, shaking his head, rubbing at his nose.

Liam nudged Harry’s knee, pushing him to the side and climbing onto the couch. Almost instantly Harry wrapped his arms around Liam’s waist and climbed onto his lap. “Publicists mad?”

Harry nodded. “Works wonders for that stupid womanizer image they’re so happy to pin me into,” he muttered. “I have a date tonight.”

Liam froze. “With who?”

He shrugged. “They want me to be seen with Kendall Jenner, I guess? She seems nice, but. Its just bullshit, Li. They’re punishing me, I know it—m’not _stupid._ I just—“

“It’s not fair,” Liam interrupted.

“It’s not,” Harry said with a pout. “And it’s not like—it’s not like I want to _come out,_ or anything. I’m not… I don’t know what I am. I just like him.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Harry shook his head. “He’s calling me after the show. He’s about to go on.”

Liam nodded. “Well, don’t get too worked up until you talk to him, yeah? He’s—I mean, this is just part of the job, you know?” he told Harry sadly. “We have to pretend, and we have to lie, and it’s just…a part of what we do. It’ll change one day but, for now?”

“I know,” Harry whispered. “I just hate feeling like I don’t have a choice.”

 

+

 

It wasn’t until later that night, when Harry was curled under the blankets in his hotel room with his mobile pressed to his ear, Matty’s voice soothing his nerves, that he was able to breathe again. His chest had been tight all night, all throughout the dinner, trying to escape the paps that were hounding the restaurant. And Harry had tried to be nice and gracious, because Kendall was a nice girl, and she was just as bound by her publicist as Harry was with his. So it wasn’t—it wasn’t her _fault,_ but Harry still resented the situation. And when Matt went quiet, whispering that it would be all right, that they would work through it, Harry believed him. 

 

+

 

Matt was half asleep, sprawled across his tiny bunk when his mobile vibrated beneath his pillow, jerking him awake. He reached for it blindly, fingers finding the cool plastic of the case, and he answered the call quickly. "'Lo?"

_"Your voice sounds scratchy. Did I wake you?"_

Matt felt himself smile softly and he shook his head. "Not really."

 _"So I did?"_ Harry asked with a quiet laugh, his voice soft, and Matt figured he was probably on the sleeping bus—didn't remember if it was Bus 1 or Bus 2 and didn't really care.

"Was only half-asleep," he told him with a shrug.

 _"Hmm,"_ Harry mused, his voice trailing off.

Matt appreciated the silence for a few seconds as he heard Harry fiddling around and the sound of a curtain sliding. "Just now goin' to bed?"

 _"Yeah, missed your voice,"_ he whispered on the other end.

"Yours, too," Matt admitted. He wasn't good at that—feelings and missing someone and the like. He tried to stay away from it, gain perspective after his last relationship, but Harry came out of nowhere and didn't _let_ Matt stay away. And, well, he liked that.

Harry laughed softly, and Matt could hear the rustling of clothes, figured he was getting ready for bed until a moan slipped past Harry's lips.

"Haz—"

 _"Fuck,"_ he whispered.

"What are you—" Matt cut himself off because he knew, knew from experience that Harry would catch him of guard, surprise him, keep him on his feet, and. Matt was in his bunk, on a crowded bus, where anyone who was awake or a light sleeper would hear his entire conversation and—

 _"M'trying to get off,"_ Harry told him with a frustrated groan. _"But I'm out of lube."_

"Use spit," Matt whispered before thinking. He heard one of the lads—George, probably—shift about in his bunk and he sighed. He kicked the blankets off of his body and pushed the curtains aside, climbing out of the bunk and walking towards the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Harry whimpered and Matt could vaguely hear the faint slap of skin-on-skin on the other side of the line. _"Rather it was yours,"_ Harry whispered.

"My what?" Matt asked.

 _"Your hand, your spit—don't fucking care,"_ he told him, groaning. _"Bunk's too small to..."_

"To what?"

 _"Finger myself properly,"_ Harry whimpered. _"Can't even get two fingers in. This is rubbish."_

Matt smiled to himself at the thought, Harry's cheeks flushed and eyes dark, lips pouting as they did when Matt teased him, pads of his fingers barely brushing his prostate until Harry pushed his hips down in encouragement. He knew Harry had two moods when it came to sex—take it slow and fuck me quick. So it was safe to assume to mood two was taking over, not to mention Harry was probably exhausted and wanted to get off before passing out. Matt knew that one well—living on the road did that to a person.

 _"Fuck, there we go,"_ Harry whispered before a little gasp left his lips. _"Talk to me."_

"About what? The weather?" Matt teased, leaning back against the basin of the sink. He could hear Harry's breathing, the moans he tried to bite back, and he pressed the heel of his hand against the base of his cock.

 _"No, about sex, you wanker. Dirty talk, c'mon,"_ Harry replied, his voice rough.

Matt liked him like that—when his voice got all deep and rough, fucked out after going down on Matt's cock. It was... It was great. "I wish the bunks were bigger," he mused.

Harry let out a strangled laugh. _"You're rubbish at dirty talk."_

"That way I could join you, hold your pretty little hands to your side as I licked you out. I'd have you begging so prettily, begging for me to be inside of you, your hips pushing back against my face," Matt told him quietly, feeling himself start to harden in his pants.

Harry whimpered. _"Yeah, keep going, fuck."_

"Maybe let you ride my face," Matt said with a shrug. "Probably have to tie you up first, though. Maybe use those ridiculous headbands of yours."

Harry gasped. _"Matty—"_

"'Bout to come already? That's no fun," he pouted, slipping a hand under his pants and wrapping his slender fingers around himself.

 _"M'so close, c'mon, please,"_ he panted.

"I'd have you on your knees in your bunk, yeah? Maybe have your pretty lips around me while you're fucking yourself on your vibrator, yeah? Full on both ends, begging to get off—"

Harry didn't even try to hold back his moan and Matt knew instantaneously that he was done, probably running his fingers through his spunk or something ridiculous. _"Can we?"_

"Hmm?" Matt asked, fingers moving lazily around his cock.

_"That. All of that. Please?"_

"Yeah, if you want."

_"Are you hard?"_

Matt laughed softly. "Yeah, can't help it after that show you just put on. Obscene little menace."

Harry laughed. _"M'about to pass out. Talk to me tomorrow, yeah?"_

Matt hesitated. "You're not—"

_"Goodnight, babe."_

Matt froze as Harry hung up on him, glancing down at his flushed cock. With a roll of his eyes, he set his mobile aside and got himself off. (And if he sent a picture of his spunk covered abs and fingers to Harry for him to see when he woke up the next morning, well, who could blame him?)

 

+

 

Harry wasn’t good at surprises, he really wasn’t; he almost always gave it away somehow. Or, well, he ended up telling them what he as planning. But—he was getting better. Barely, because he hadn’t seen Matt in nearly three weeks and maybe, just maybe, traveling back to London early before the rest of the lads in order to surprise Matt before his show in Manchester was a bad idea. 

But he had left early, somehow managing to sneak out without the paps or the fans catching on, and he whispered a prayer of thanks. By the time he pulled behind the venue in Manchester, his nerves were shot. He shoved the keys in the pocket of his navy jacket and took the back entrance, already having talked to the owner an hour or so before—being famous definitely had its perks sometimes. 

The opening band was playing, Harry wasn’t even sure who it was, and he could barely make out their vocals as he walked down the hallway backstage, stopping in front of the door of the dressing room. He was pretty sure his heart was hammering in his chest—three weeks was a _long_ time. And even if he and Matt talked almost every day, it was still… Well, Matt still had the ability to make him feel like a nervous teenager. And, okay, he was a teenager but—that wasn’t the point. He raised his fist to knock at the door, only having to wait about twenty seconds before it flew open and he was face to face with Matt. 

“Harry, wha—“

Harry reached out instantly, cupping Matt’s face with his hands and pressing their lips together, forcing him further into the room. He kicked the door shut behind them, sliding his tongue along the edge of Matt’s lips, feeling him moan against him. Harry slid his hands to the back of Matt’s neck, holding him in one place until he feels Matt trying to pull back. Their lips separate with a wet smack, Harry brushing his lips across Matt’s jaw with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello!”

Harry froze when he heard someone else’s voice, someone distinctly _not Matt,_ and he slowly turned to come face-to-face with the other three lads of Matt’s band. “Heeeey,” he drawled out slowly, feeling his cheeks flush.

“The lads are here,” Matt whispered against his ear with a quiet laugh. 

“Lovely display of affection, lads. Don’t stop on our account,” George told him with a grin.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Harry, this is George, Ross, and Adam. Lads, this is Harry—“

“Harry Styles, proper pop star,” Ross interrupted. “Where’s your monocle?”

“My what?” Harry asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he fiddled with his curls. 

“Monocle and top hat! All the posh lads have ‘em,” George told him.

“I—I don’t have a monocle. I’m sure I could find one, though,” Harry replied. “Do you want one, or—“

George laughed loudly.

Matt frowned and kicked at George’s leg where he was sprawled out on the couch. “Don’t be a wanker.”

“C’mon, he knows I didn’t mean it.” George rolled his eyes and sat up straight on the couch, reaching towards the little table in front of him for his lighter. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said with a wave of his hand, reaching to unbutton his jacket and shrug it off his shoulder. He set it across the back of the second couch, sitting down next to Adam and crossing his legs. “What time do you lot go on?”

“An hour,” Matt said with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest and walking over to stand in front of Harry. “Nice jumper.”

Harry looked down at his jumper, realizing it was the Nirvana one he had nicked from Matt almost a month before, and he felt his cheeks flush again. “Yeah, erm—“

“Looks good on you,” Matt interrupted, kicking at Harry’s ankle. “Took my spot, y’know?”

Harry grinned and reached for his waist, tugging Matt down onto his lap. Matt struggled for a moment, letting out a laugh before sinking down against Harry’s side, legs thrown over his lap. “Better?” Harry asked with a wide smile.

Matt bit back a laugh as Harry nuzzled against his side, tucking his head underneath his neck. Matt wrapped an arm around his shoulder, lazily toying with the curls at the base of his neck. “Could be worse,” he decided.

“There are other people in the room, y’know,” Ross pointed out.

“And we’ve yet to start our preshow ritual because of your little posh boy,” George added with a sardonic smile, nodding towards Harry. 

“M’not that posh, you know,” Harry told him.

“You’re wearing boots covered in fucking glitter,” George replied with a laugh. “If that’s not posh, I don’t know what is.”

Harry shrugged—he’d gotten enough flack from the lads (and in the twitter-sphere, whatever) for them, and he didn’t really care. “I like them.”

“That’s all that matters, babe,” Matt told him. “George is being an arse because he didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I’m being an arse because I’m always an arse, actually,” George corrected with a grin. 

“We know,” Adam said quietly, making his presence known for the first time. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your preshow ritual,” Harry told George sincerely. “Do you—Do you want me to step out, or?”

“You’re not stepping out,” Matt said, pressing his lips to his temple before sending George a glare.

George shrugged and reached towards the table, picking up the joint he had rolled prior to Harry’s entrance. “You mind?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in Harry’s direction.

Harry shook his head. “Go on,” he told him; he sat back while George lit up and passed the joint over to Matt, reaching over Ross and Adam to do so. He watched the way Matt’s fingers held the joint, his cheeks hollowing ever so slightly on the intake, pursing when he blew the smoke out slowly. Harry had been around weed before, he didn’t really care when the lads smoked, but they didn’t exactly look like Matt, and… Harry probably shouldn’t have been attracted to that, but he was. 

Matt took another slow drag, eyes slipping shut, and he smiled as he blew the smoke out of the side of his lips. His fingers scratched at the back of Harry’s neck as he leaned forward to pass the joint back to George.

“Ask your posh boy if he wants some, Matty, don’t be rude,” George said. “Besides, I’ve got more.”

“Yeah, I’ll—“ Harry cleared his throat, sitting up and tucking his back against the arm of the couch. 

“Babe, your asthma—“ Matt insisted.

Harry shrugged. “I’ll be fine,” he told him, studiously ignoring the way that the other lads were watching him, and he reached out for the joint.

Matt hesitated before handing the joint over to him; he knew what Harry was doing, and it was completely unnecessary. He didn’t—He didn’t have to _impress_ anyone. “Go slow, yeah?” he whispered.

Harry took the joint from Matt’s hands with shaking fingers, nodding, and he took a slow drag, blowing out the smoke as he felt the tickle in the back of his throat, and he started coughing.

Matt grabbed the joint from Harry’s hand, rubbing his back slowly as he continued to cough. “Shit, you okay, babe?” he asked as George and Ross started laughing.

Adam reached over the table to grab a bottle of water, handing it to Harry. “Here.”

Harry looked up and took it from him, his eyes watering, and he took a long gulp of the water, trying to wash the taste from his mouth. “That was foul,” he said, coughing again. 

“Stop laughing, wankers,” Matt told George and Ross with a frown. 

“S’alright, Matty, m’fine,” Harry replied, taking another drink of water. 

Matt continued to rub his back until Harry curled up against his side. “It’s just not for some people, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely not for the posh,” George decided.

Harry laughed softly. “At least not for me.”

George grinned and stood up, straightening his jeans. “Gotta take a piss. Back in a few, lads.”

Matt rolled his eyes as George stepped out of the room, and he instantly pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. “Sorry ‘bout him. He can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

Harry shrugged. “Just like Lou,” he commented. “I’m not upset.”

“Good,” Matt said, sliding his arm to Harry’s waist and slipping his fingers under his jumper. “You’ve never seen us live before.”

“Are you gonna take your shirt off?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as he leaned back to look up at Matt.

Ross laughed. “Probably. He ends up taking it off most nights.”

“I get hot onstage,” Matt shrugged. 

Harry grinned. “What are you doing after the show?”

“Autographs and pictures, most likely.”

“There’s a hotel down the road,” Harry said quietly. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Matt paused. “We have a flight tomorrow morning, Haz. We gotta get back to the States—“

“I’ll take you to the airport,” Harry told him. “Just—Please?”

“Just catch a later flight,” Adam suggested. “Spend time with your boy.”

Matt bit down on the inside of his cheek; he didn’t technically have to take such an early flight—the label paid for it because it was cheaper or whatever, he didn’t really care. And if he got to spend more time with Harry and take a later flight, it was worth the money coming out of his pocket. He nodded, fingers squeezing Harry’s side. “Yeah, I’ll change my flight tonight. I’ll still get there in time.”

“We’re getting there a day early anyway,” Ross said. 

“See?” Harry grinned up at him. “All works out perfectly.”

Matt smiled softly and leaned down to brush their lips together. “Yeah, it does.”

 

+

 

“Don’t you think you’re being a little excessive?” Matt asked as Harry climbed in the lift after him, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

Harry shook his head. “It’s better this way. Trust me.”

Matt pursed his lips as the lift chimed, signaling they were at the correct floor. He followed Harry down the hall and to room 506, one of the _two_ rooms he had booked. “Two rooms is better? Have you cloned both of us so we can fuck in both rooms, or?”

“Ssh!” Harry said, turning around to look at him with wide eyes. “Anyone can be listening.”

Matt grinned. “I think the saying is the walls have eyes, not the walls have ears.”

“I think it’s the other way around, actually.”

“No matter. Two rooms is excessive,” he repeated as Harry unlocked the door and stepped in. Matt followed and shut the door behind himself, flipping on the light and kicking off his boots. “And two suites at that—ridiuclous. You’re a big spender, pop star.”

“People talk,” Harry said with a shrug. “Unless you want the headlines to read about our endless night of shagging—“

“At least that’d be the truth,” Matt interrupted with a shrug.

Harry sighed, setting his satchel down. “I know this isn’t ideal, Matty, but I—This is what it has to be, for now. It might change, but…” he trailed off and looked down at the floor. 

“No one’s even expecting you to be here, though,” Matt told him. 

“By tomorrow, everyone will know. That’s just…how this works.” Harry sat down at the edge of the bed and tugged off his boots, kicking them towards his bag. 

Matt walked over to Harry and stepped between his legs, threading his fingers through his curls until Harry looked up at him with wide eyes. “Nothing in this world is ever ideal, Harry,” he told him.

Harry nodded. “I know. I’m just…sorry it has to be this way? I guess. I mean, it won’t…it won’t change for a while. So I understand if you, y’know, want to…back out now,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper at the end and he quickly looked back towards the floor, not wanting to meet Matt’s eyes. 

Matt sunk to his knees in front of Harry, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together, and he felt inexplicably _sad_ for him. He could joke with Harry about being a big pop star as much as he wanted, but he knew there were downsides—there were _always_ downsides, even if Harry rarely acknowledged them in favor of showing appreciation for all the positives. But Matt knew, because it was getting increasingly more difficult to get time alone with Harry, especially if they wanted to evade the paparazzi. And Harry was young, so young, but he was dealing with it in such a graceful way that Matt often forgot he was still a teenager. He tightened his hold on Harry’s fingers and leaned in, nudging at his chin until he looked up. “I don’t want out,” he told him.

“You don’t?” Harry asked softly.

“No,” Matt said. “And I’m not exactly romantic or anything so believe me when I say that I want to be here, that I’m all in, yeah? Things don’t have to be easy in order for them to be great. The struggle is what makes it all worth it, you know?”

Harry smiled widely and nodded. “Yeah. I like when you talk. I like the way you say things.”

Matt laughed softly. “Good. Now I believe the woman at the desk mentioned a Jacuzzi…”

“Yeah, s’in the bathroom,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder. “That way, if you want to relax.”

“That was an invitation, Harry,” he told him, taking a step back and standing up.

Harry flushed and allowed Matt to tug him off the bed and into the bathroom. Matt dropped his hand the minute he approached the tub, reaching over to turn on the water. Once the water was at an appropriate temperature and volume, he smiled at Harry over his shoulder, flicking off the faucet before he shrugged off his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He felt Harry’s eyes on his back as he tugged off his jeans and pants, shucking off his socks, and he climbed into the tub. A small hiss left his lips as he sunk into the hot water, fitting into one of the built in seats, and he fiddled with the buttons, turning on the jets. 

“Are you going to join me or just stand there and watch me?” Matt asked with a grin, running his hand through his hair. 

Harry nodded and immediately pulled his jumper over his head, disposing of his jeans, pants, and socks as quickly as he could, and he climbed in the tub. Matt’s fingers found his knees, sliding up his thighs, and he pulled Harry down onto his lap. Harry straddled Matt’s thin hips, nudging their noses together briefly, and he smiled. “Water’s warm.”

“Too warm?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head before brushing their lips together. He wrapped his fingers around Matt’s neck, holding him in place, kissing him slowly. Matt’s hands slid up his thighs, resting on the curve of his bum, and he pulled him further down into his lap until their bodies were nestled together. Harry nipped at Matt’s lower lip, sliding his fingers into his hair, groaning when Matt’s tongue found his lips. 

Matt’s fingers tightened against the flesh of his bum, tongue tracing the roof of Harry’s mouth until he let out a quiet moan. Matt’s lips left his, tracing the curve of his jaw until he reached his ear, nipping at the lobe. Harry’s fingers held firm against Matt’s head as his tongue traced the side of his neck. Matt hesitated, just briefly, when he felt Harry start to grind down against him, his cock pressed between their bodies. 

“Matty,” Harry panted against his lips, pulling him back in for a kiss. “Want you, wanna feel you.”

“Let’s get out, yeah? Go to bed? Let me lay you out all proper,” Matt suggested, nipping at Harry’s jaw.

Harry shook his head. “Can’t. Evidence. What if—What if housekeeping sees it?” he asked, voice panicked and rushed and thick with lust. 

“Alright,” Matt agreed easily, rubbing the soft skin of Harry’s hip to soothe him. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Wanna take care of you, too,” Harry whispered.

Matt smiled and nodded. “Turn around, babe.”

Harry nodded but not before capturing Matt’s lips in a quick kiss, his tongue teasing, before he pulled back. He steadily climbed to his feet before turning around, feeling Matt’s hands on his hips, guiding him back down. His legs were hooked on either side of Matt’s and he felt the hard press of Matt’s cock thick between his cheeks, rubbing against him, and he let out a small whimper, pushing back against him. “Matty—“

Matt reached between their bodies, grabbing his cock and fitting himself between Harry’s cheeks, rubbing against him. The head of his cock pressed firmly against Harry’s balls, and he trailed his fingers up, across his hole, before reaching around his waist. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Harry’s cock, squeezing lightly, and he pressed his lips against the back of his neck. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod, fingers digging into the sides of Matt’s thighs. He pushed his hips down, feeling Matt moan against his neck. Matt jerked him off slowly, thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, and his other hand trailed up Harry’s chest, grabbing his nipple. Harry gasped, head falling back onto Matt’s shoulder as Matt’s finger tugged and twisted the sensitive little bud until Harry’s heart was racing in his chest. 

Matt sucked at the skin of Harry’s neck carefully, not wanting to leave a bruise in such an obvious place—well, he _wanted_ to, but he knew he _couldn’t._ And he took his time getting Harry off, jerking him off slowly, squeezing at the base and teasing the leaking slit of his cock, thumb pressed right underneath the head. Harry whimpered, torn between thrusting his hips up into Matt’s hand or back to feel the slide of his cock between his cheeks. His fingers dug crescent-shaped bruises into Matt’s thighs as he felt the familiar pooling of heat low in his stomach. “Matty, I—“

“S’alright, babe,” he whispered against his ear, twisting his wrist on the upstroke as Harry came with a silent gasp. Matt smiled against the side of his neck, hands gently rubbing at Harry’s sides as the boy slumped down against his chest. 

Harry waited a beat before turning slightly and pressing his lips to whatever part of Matt he could reach. “Want me to—“

Matt shook his head and grabbed Harry’s hips. “Just—“ he started, words dropping off as he held Harry’s hips in place and thrust against him. Harry whimpered, his body all too sensitive, as Matt rutted against him before releasing with a quiet groan.

Harry reached down for Matt’s hands, lacing their fingers together on top of his hips. “M’sorry—M’not paranoid, I promise.”

“I know you’re not, babe.”

“I’m just…cautious, yeah? It’s—I like this, _us._ And I don’t want—I’m sorry—“

“Stop apologizing,” Matt whispered, tucking his face into Harry’s neck. “I get it, yeah? Meant it when I said I was all in.”

“Okay,” Harry said with a soft smile that he was unable to hide. “Next time, though, you can lay me out all proper like.”

Matt laughed. “Good.”

“When will the next time be, though?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” Matt started, kissing the side of Harry’s neck, “I’m back in London on the 19th, we’ve a show on the 20th, so if you’ve time—“

“I’ve time,” Harry insisted.

“Gonna surprise me in my flat again?”

Harry nodded and grinned. “Don’t I always?”

“Think you’ve got more clothes there than I do. Why do we never go to your place? I’m sure it’s bigger,” Matt commented.

“It is. But I like yours more.”

“Why’s that?”

Harry shrugged and slowly turned around until he was tucked against Matt’s side again, the lukewarm water splashing around him. “It smells like you, feels like you, just…” he trailed off and shrugged again. “I like it more.”

Matt smiled, running his hand through Harry’s curls. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah? Gotta be at the airport by noon.”

 

+

 

When Matt woke up the next morning, it wasn’t to something ridiculous like Harry’s lips wrapped around his cock or anything—what a _shame,_ actually—but to the sound of a knock on the door. He tugged the blanket further over his head, barely hearing Harry whisper something before the door shut again. A minute or so later, the bed dipped next to him, and Harry pulled the blanket off of his head.

“Tea?”

“Sleep and blowjobs,” Matt muttered, pulling the pillow over his head.

Harry grinned, but there was nothing really behind it, and he tugged at the pillow. “C’mon, I got some fruit as well,” he told him. 

Matt peered up at him before reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Need a fag.”

“Tea first,” Harry insisted.

Matt smiled, sitting up slowly. He reached behind him and set the pillows against the headboard before sinking down against them, reaching for the cup that Harry handed him. He sat in silence for a few moments, just watching Harry who was absorbed with his mobile, before he reached for the iPhone and tugged it out of his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Harry nodded towards his mobile and didn’t respond.

Matt glanced down at the screen, seeing the endless stream of retweets or whatever they were called, and he frowned. 

_@comeinmelarry AW LOOK HARRY THE FANBOY AT THE 1975 HOW CUTE I’M CRYING_

_@comeinmelarry: @Truman_Black WHY WAS HARRY AT YOUR SHOW OH MY GOD WHAT A FANGIRL!!!!_

_@comeinmelarry: @Louis_Tomlinson @Truman_Black YOUR BOYFRIEND HAS A NEW BOYFRIEND ANYWAY_

_@comeinlarry: @larry_5ever OMG NO HARRY WAS IN MANCHESTER TO SEE 1975 AND HE LFT WITH MATTY I AM CRYING DOES LOUIS KNOW?!?!?!?_

_@larry_5ever: @comeinlarry OMG WAT IS THIS I CAN’T!!!! HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE WITH LOUIS!!!!_

“This is all bullshit, Harry. Who is this girl anyway? No one,” Matt said, tossing the mobile aside. “They’re teenage girls who—Just—It doesn’t matter, yeah?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s hard to… Never mind.”

“Tell me,” Matt encouraged, reaching over to set his cup down on the nightstand before he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist. He pulled him closer until they were snuggling, reaching behind him to pull the blanket over their bare chests.

“It’s hard to enjoy anything, you know? Infinitely harder to keep anything secret,” he grumbled. “I’m glad you’re all in, because m’not sure if you could get out now,” he said sadly. “I’m—“

“Don’t apologize,” Matt told him, leaning in to kiss him quickly. “Now, I said sleep and blowjobs. But we can sleep later, yeah?”

Harry grinned. “Me first.”

 

+

 

Matt wasn’t surprised when he returned to his flat and saw a pile of suitcases shoved in front of the hall closet. Harry had adopted part of Matt’s messy behavior, tossing his clothes wherever he pleased, as he got ready for bed at night. Not that Matt really understood why Harry would choose to stay in his shoebox-sized flat when he knew that Harry had a house, even if it was under renovation. Matt’s flat was a sty in comparison to the place Harry had shown him pictures of, even though Harry often said in interviews that he was homeless. Either way, he spent all of his time at Matt’s, and his stack of suitcases by the door was a constant reminder.

Matt kicked his boots off, shrugging off his jacket and laying it on top of Harry’s suitcases, before he made his way over to the bed. He shivered and turned up the thermostat, eyes landing on the Harry-sized lump on his bed, and he smiled. He knelt on the mattress, framing Harry’s hips, and he pulled the blanket over his head.

“Matty,” Harry whined, eyes still screwed shut with sleep, and he reached up to slap at Matt’s hands. “S’cold, gimme the blanket.”

“Nope,” Matt decided, pulling the blanket further down Harry’s body. “Why are you naked if you’re so cold?”

“Like being naked,” Harry told him, reaching for the blanket again. “Are you complaining about me being naked?”

Matt shook his head. “Never.”

“C’mon. Cuddle me. What time is it?”

“It’s half-eleven. George and I had brunch.”

Harry pouted. “Don’t know how I feel about George being your boyfriend,” he teased.

Matt grinned. “He says the same about you, actually,” he told him, standing up to pull off his shirt and jeans. 

“What do you say?”

“That I only get sexual favors from one of you, so.”

“So you only have one boyfriend,” Harry decided, “and that’s me.”

Matt shrugged, pulling up the blanket and climbing under next to Harry, who instantly crawled half on top of him.

“You know I’m basically your boyfriend, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a nod.

Harry grinned. “I mean. We can never actually, like, _say_ that, but—“

“I know,” he interrupted softly.

Harry nuzzled against Matt’s neck. “Can you set the alarm for three?”

“Why?”

“We got an early Christmas dinner with your family.”

Matt froze. “Harry—“

“What?” he asked, sitting up. “Your mum called. She misses you. So does Louis. You know how busy he’s been. We’re all meeting up in London.”

“When did you talk to my mum? How did—“

Harry shrugged. “Talked to her yesterday when you were in the shower. She called, we got to talking, and she invited me to join. Is that—Is that alright?”

Matt paused and he found himself nodding slowly. “I’ve never introduced anyone to my mum before,” he said quietly.

“We don’t have to—We don’t have to tell her, if you don’t want to. Might be better if fewer people know,” he mused.

“No, I don’t want to lie to her,” Matt said quickly. 

Harry grinned. “Yeah?”

Matt sighed. “Alright, pop star, you’re my boyfriend, and I’ll introduce you to my mum and brother.”

Harry laughed. “I’m your boyfriend. And I didn’t even make you call me that. You did it on your own. How proper.”

Matt rolled his eyes. 

 

+

 

_heard your new gf is in LDN._

Harry rolled his eyes. Matt knew— _knew_ —how much that aggravated him, truly, especially since he happened to be at dinner with Kendall right then. Even though his publicist and hers had released statements that they were “just friends,” Harry still had to be seen with her. And it wasn’t horrible, not really, she was good company, and she was just as manipulated as he was. But it did suck because it was time that Harry could’ve used to FaceTime with Matt or just, well, not be on a fake date with someone.

**matty…?**

_just messing with you, babe. x_

**good because i’m on a date with her now. wish it was you. xx**

_saw the pap shots. you should wear stripes more often. they suit you._

Harry tried to enjoy himself, he really did, but it was difficult. He and Kendall had a decent amount in common, but everything felt…forced. He had apologized about ten times already for being an absolute rubbish date, but she just laughed and told him not to worry about it.

_for every pap shot of the two of you, I expect one dick shot._

**matty…**

_i’m waiting, harry._

**I’m on a date, matty.**

_the restaurant doesn’t have a loo?_

Harry swallowed and excused himself from the table, not even remembering what he said, and he slipped into the bathroom easily. Locking himself in a stall, he quickly shoved his jeans around his thighs and palmed himself through his pants. He knew it was risky, but he didn’t really care. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and flipped on the video, his hand shaking as he got himself off as quickly and as quietly as he could. And if he sent the video to Matt as he sat back down at the table, cheeks slightly flushed as Kendall asked for the check then, well, that’s what boyfriends did, right?

**too many pap shots. hope this is good enough for you. xx**

 

+

 

Matt was in the middle of Australia when he saw the explosion on Twitter—Harry at the airport, tucked behind a blue beanie and one of his ridiculous Yves Saint Laurent jackets that cost more than most of Matt’s wardrobe, his satchel slung over his shoulder. Matt frowned; Harry hadn’t mentioned going on holiday or—whatever, Matt wasn’t his _keeper,_ and Harry didn’t _have_ to tell him anything. Still, it was odd, because Harry was a sharer, and over-sharer, actually, so—odd. No matter, Matt pushed it to the back of his mind, but not before sending Harry a quick _where ya flyin off to this time, pop star? text me when you land. x_ And Matt refused to think about it— _refused_ —until the next day when there was a knock on the door to their bus and George, fucking _George,_ bolted out of the backroom with a shit-eating grin.

“Wanna get that, Matty?”

Matt frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “No. You’re closer,” he said, nodding towards the door.

“I really think you should get it,” George told him.

With a heavy and overdramatic sigh, Matt swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up, making his way over towards the door. He swung the door open and froze in place when he saw Harry standing in front of him. “Wha—“

Harry grinned and stepped onto the bus, causing Matt to take a step back, and he leaned in to kiss him quickly. “Hi, babe,” he greeted, walking past him up the rest of the steps and tossing his bag towards the floor. “Hi, lads.”

Matt turned and reached for Harry’s hand before he could venture too far away, tugging him back so he could kiss him properly. Harry tangled his fingers in Matt’s hair in a way that had Matt grounded instantly, comfortably, and he pulled away with a smile. 

“Surprise?” Harry whispered shyly.

Matt laughed softly.

“Are you surprised?” he asked quietly, eyes downcast like he still wasn’t sure if Matt wanted him there—halfway across the planet, in a tiny tour bus, on the Australian stretch of their tour. 

“By you? Constantly,” Matt admitted.

Harry grinned, leaning in to press his lips against Matt’s jaw. “Good,” he decided, dropping Matt’s hand before wandering over to the couch and sitting down, tossing his legs over Adam’s lap. “Who chills in their bus when they’re in Melborne? Why aren’t you lot, I don’t know, surfing or summat?”

George laughed. “Us? Surf? You’re mental.”

“How long are you staying?” Matt asked quickly, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the bus to stand in front of Harry.

“Until you fly out to Japan.”

“Oh.”

“Is that—Is that alright?” Harry asked, frowning. “George said it wouldn’t be a problem—“

“George said?” Matt interrupted, turning to face his best mate with a small grin. “You said?”

George leaned back against the wall, shrugging. “Was sick of ya mopin’ around, to be honest. It was just a suggestion.”

Harry smiled, a little sheepish. “It was all his idea. I have the texts to prove it.”

“You’ve been _texting_?” Matt asked with a laugh as he shook his head. 

“Yeah, he’s got that little top hat emoji next to his name and everything, being the posh pop star that he is,” George teased.

Harry flipped him off.

“You’re such a little shit,” Matt accused before he pulled off his glasses, setting them on the kitchenette table, and he crossed the room and tackled George to the ground, attempting to toss him about even though George was quite bigger. 

Harry watched for a moment or two, smiling and amused, before he turned towards Ross. “This happen a lot?”

Ross nodded, not even looking up from his laptop. “All the time.”

Harry watched Matt and George wrestle around on the floor of the tour bus; George’s head knocking into the wall by the bunks, Matt’s feet kicking something off the little kitchenette table. Ross simply propped his legs up on the seat at the table, moving his bottle of beer before Matt could knock it off, taking a swig, completely unaffected. Harry shook his head, laughing, before poking Adam in the side. 

Adam merely grunted, messing with his mobile, until Harry poked him in the side again. “Yeah?”

“Whatcha doin?” Harry asked.

Adam shrugged. 

“Are you sending dirty snapchats? Like the one’s Matty got when you lot were in the airport a few weeks ago?” he asked.

“Oi!” Matt yelled, catching George in a headlock. “We don’t talk about those.”

Harry grinned over at him just in time to see George toss Matt over his shoulder. He winced and would’ve said something, probably, if Matt wasn’t laughing and kicking at George’s back. “You loved ‘em, don’t lie.”

Matt flipped him off.

Adam locked his phone and set it down on the couch, tugging Harry’s ankle to get his attention. Harry looked over at him with wide eyes and a small smile. Adam patted Harry’s leg with a nod. “I think I’ve known Matty for half of my life,” he mused.

“Yeah?”

“Known him for years, happy and absolutely pissed, quiet and loud. But—this?” Adam asked, shaking his head. “Ya bring something out in him,” he shrugged.

“I do?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. Has he shown you some of the new stuff?”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s—” Adam paused and shrugged again. “Always knew he was good, yeah? But some of this new stuff is bloody _brilliant._ ”

Harry felt something swell in his chest, something he couldn’t place and didn’t even _want_ to. He glanced over his shoulder at Matt, who was looking back and forth between Harry and Adam with a curious look on his face and George’s arm around his neck.

“What’s brilliant?” Matt asked, squinting his eyes because—wow, bad eyesight, he could barely distinguish a difference between his band mate and Harry. 

“Your face,” Harry answered with a wide grin. 

George rolled his eyes and shoved Matt aside, but not before making a gagging noise and ruffling Matt’s hair. “You’re fucking rom com, you two. I need a drink. Someone get me a drink. Ross—“

“Get it yourself,” Ross interrupted, taking a drink from his own beer and sending George a big smile. 

“Tosser.”

Matt reached for his glasses on the table, slipping them on, and he crawled the remaining four feet, if that, towards the couch to stop in front of Harry. Harry tilted his head up just as Matt leaned in for a kiss, their lips brushing quickly. Matt smiled as he pulled back, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. “M’glad you’re here.”

Harry reached up and gently pushed Matt’s glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Me, too.”

 

+

 

Matt woke up in his hotel in Australia, Sydney or Melbourne he wasn’t even sure, to Harry's lips pressed against the knobs of his spine, inching their way down. Harry's fingers were gentle at his waist, barely digging into the pale skin, as Harry's tongue traced each curve of his back. Matt let out an involuntary gasp as Harry's teeth nipped at his lower back, fingers brushing over the curve of his bum. His heart was pounding in his chest as Harry's lips brushed against his crack, and Matt shifted against the bed. His back arched and he turned to look over his shoulder, meeting Harry's big eyes.

"Morning," Harry whispered, his voice rough and deep with sleep.

Matt was reeling, his head spinning. Harry had his just-woke-up look about him, and his mouth was still pressing soft kisses against the curve of Matt's arse, and he looked so innocent and wrecked and it just wasn't bloody _fair._ "Whatcha doin' down there, babe?" he asked with a quiet laugh.

Harry smiled softly, fingertips tracing Matt's bum gently, deftly sliding over his crack.

Matt but his lip, head falling back against the pillow. He was entirely sure it was way too early to be pushing Harry away, but he also didn't _want_ to, because he was exhausted from the night before and Harry’s hands on his body felt amazing.

"Wanna make you feel good," he mumbled.

"You always do."

Harry's cheeks flushed and he crawled between Matt's legs, kneeling behind him. He pressed his lips against Matt's lower back and worked his way up until he could nip at the soft skin of his shoulder. "Can I—" he cut himself off, his flush deepening.

"Can you what?" Matt prompted, though he had a feeling that he knew what Harry was going to ask. His first instinct was to say no, turn away and go back to sleep, but—there was a _look_ on Harry's face that he was almost positive he could never say no to. And, well, he might've been a bit curious. (But just a _bit._ )

"I was thinking, like. You always make me feel good—amazing, actually," he corrected himself. "And I wanna make you feel amazing."

"You do with that mouth of yours," Matt told him, sending him a smile over his shoulder.

Harry grinned and leaned in to brush his lips across Matt's jawline and up to his ear. "But don't you wanna know what else I can do with my mouth?"

Matt shivered, actually fucking _shivered_ at his words because apparently a tongue in his arse was something he actually wanted. Who knew? "You don't have to—"

"I know."

"And I've never—" Matt cut himself off. He wasn't used to that, feeling at a disadvantage because Harry had some sort of _experience_ that he didn't. But even when Matt realized he was into guys, he had always been more about giving pleasure than receiving, and the idea of bottoming wasn't exactly on his bucket list. (But neither was falling for a pop star.)

"Can I try? I wanna—I wanna make it good for you," Harry told him quietly.

Matt found himself nodding, whether it was because of the eager tone in Harry's voice and his constant need to please people or the ache of lust low in his belly and his hard cock trapped between his abdomen and the mattress—it didn't matter _why._

"If you—If you think it's weird, I'll stop, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright," he agreed easily, tugging the pillow closer to his chest as he felt Harry scoot further down the mattress.

Harry's hands were gentle as he gripped the back of Matt's thighs, pulling them apart just a little bit. Matt felt his cheeks flush and he buried his face in the pillow. He briefly wondered if that was how Harry felt every time Matt had done the same to him, which was quite often, but Harry didn't hide himself the way Matt was trying to; Harry never hid his pleasure, he kept it on display in the most pornographic way Matt had ever seen. He felt Harry's shallow breaths on the back of his thighs, his tongue darting out to brush against his balls, his hands sliding upward to grip his cheeks.

Matt sucked in a deep breath the second he felt Harry's tongue trace across his hole, a quick swipe that was more of a tease than anything else. When he felt his tongue dip across his opening, his fingers tightened in the sheets. He could feel Harry's curls tickling his skin, his fingers pressing against him, and the slow swipe of his tongue, and Matt's brain was _reeling._ His back arched and he pushed his hips against the bed trying to get a little bit of friction, and he groaned when he felt Harry pull away.

"Harry—"

Harry reached for his hips and pulled him up until he was resting on his knees. He slid a hand around Matt's waist, gripping his cock and stroking him quickly.

Matt moaned as he felt Harry's tongue press against his hole again, dipping into him, nipping at his rim. He flexed his fingers against the sheets, feeling the sweat pool at the dip in his back as Harry's thumb swiped over the leaking head of his cock. His orgasm hit him out of nowhere, somewhere between the twist of the upstroke that Harry had mastered weeks before and the slow, lewd slide of his tongue against Matt's hole, and he came with a broken cry, panting as Harry gently pressed him down against the bed. "Fuck," he whispered.

Harry laughed softly as Matt reached behind him, searching, and he lay down next to him. His smile widened as Matt tugged him closer, nuzzling his neck. "It's weird. Normally I'm the tired, cuddly one," he mused.

Matt smiled. "Now I know why. Fuck, Harry."

"Good?"

"Yeah, babe," he whispered. "Now can I go back to sleep? This is our only day off in Australia and I plan on enjoying it."

Harry grinned, pulling the blanket over their bodies. "Will you do me later?"

"Eat you out or fuck you?"

"Am I greedy if I ask for both?"

Matt laughed, pressing his lips against Harry's throat. "No."

"Then both," Harry decided with a nod.

 

+

 

Harry didn’t take much with him to Australia, didn’t really need to because he had a bad habit of wearing Matt’s clothes more than his own, so he was easily able to pack up everything while Matt was in the shower. By the time he got out, Harry was lying on the bed in his pants, refusing to get dressed until he absolutely _had to,_ playing with his mobile and waiting for the car to arrive. 

“Sure you don’t wanna go to Japan with us?” Matt asked, mostly joking, as he ran a towel through his hair.

Harry smiled. “I’d love to. We just got a lot of press with the tour coming up,” he said with a shrug. His mobile vibrated in his hand and he frowned. “The car’s here.”

“Busy life of a pop star, eh?” he teased, tossing the wet towel towards Harry.

“Hey,” Harry pouted, catching the towel and dropping it to the floor. “That was mean.”

“You loved it.”

“I love _you,_ ” Harry corrected. And the second the words were out of his mouth, he froze. He chanced a glance towards Matt who was just smiling, shaking his head.

“Sure, mate,” he said with a quiet laugh.

Harry sat up slowly, pushing his curls out of his face. He opened his mouth to say something but he hesitated, choosing instead to stand up and start looking for his clothes. 

“Oh, fuck me, you’re serious,” Matt said, his mouth dropping open. “Harry—“

“It’s—It’s not,” Harry paused again as he pulled on a pair of jeans, zipping and buttoning them quickly.

“What happened to this just being a bit of fun?” Matt asked softly.

Harry’s jaw clenched and he turned towards Matt, ready to say something, anything, any of the words on his tongue like _you’re my boyfriend_ or _I met your mother and your brother during **Christmas**_ or _I flew halfway around the world to see you for a week_ but he didn’t. Because it wasn’t just _a bit of fun_ and hadn’t been for a while. And Harry didn’t know when it happened, couldn’t exactly locate the exact moment between nights on the road and nights curled up under a pile of blankets with Matt, the smell of tea and cigarettes strong in the air. It wasn’t like there was a precise moment, but it happened, and—He knew they might not have been on the same page, wasn’t even planning on _saying_ it, but he did and. “Yeah,” he said quietly, bitterly, with a nod. “Just a bit of fun.”

“Harry—“ Matt said, reaching out for him.

“It’s fine,” Harry said with a forced smile. “Just. Forget I said anything, okay?” he told him, reaching for a sweater, his _own,_ and pulling it over his head. “I’m making a cuppa. Want one?”

Matt paused, eyeing the fabric covering Harry’s body, and he didn’t—Harry didn’t wear his own clothes, not when he was with Matt, and Matt was missing about ten jumpers which was proof enough. He’d even laid one out on the bed for Harry, assuming he would wear that instead, but—he was wearing his own and it wasn’t _right._ “Thought you said your car was here,” he muttered.

Harry sighed, reaching for his mobile and shoving it into his back pocket. He could feel himself getting angry and he didn’t want that, didn’t want to be angry with Matt, but he couldn’t help it. “Yeah,” he agreed, crossing the room and picking up his satchel. He flung the strap over his shoulder, tucking his navy jacket over the top so that he could have it ready when he got off the plane at Heathrow. 

Matt walked over to him, reaching for Harry’s hand, holding on tight when he tried to pull away. “Are we—okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod and a weak smile. “It’s all okay.”

“Good,” Matt told him, even if he didn’t really believe him, and he leaned in to brush their lips together. 

Harry pulled away quickly, not meeting Matt’s eyes, because he just—he _couldn’t._ “I gotta go. Can’t keep the car waiting.”

“Fly safe, babe. Text me when you land?”

“Yeah,” he agreed quickly.

“Harry—“

“I gotta go,” he repeated, slipping his hand out of Matt’s and walking over to the hotel door. He paused and sighed, turning around and walking back over towards Matt. He pressed their lips together quickly before pulling away without another word and leaving the hotel room as quickly as he could. He tugged his Ray Bans over his eyes as he left the hotel, not stopping to talk to any of the fans that had swarmed the hotel, and the minute the car door shut behind him, he let out the tears he had been holding in.

It wasn’t like— He didn’t _expect_ Matt to say it back. But he also didn’t expect— Well, he didn’t know _what_ to expect. But it wasn’t that. 

 

+

 

Matt didn’t get a text when Harry landed, but he knew he was alright because his twitter timeline exploded yet _again._ And he tried to ignore it, tried to let it go, because maybe Harry needed some space. He wasn’t sure. But he knew that Harry was upset when he left the hotel, but—what was Matt supposed to _do_? He wasn’t—wasn’t expecting _that,_ and. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, simple as that.

Two days in Japan passed quickly, the flight back home was slower than normal, even after he sent Harry a text that went unanswered like all the others. He had hoped to sleep during the flight, a blanket pulled up to his neck, but George had switched seats with Ross and, well, Matt knew he wasn’t going to sleep.

“How’s Harry?” 

Matt frowned, glaring at his best mate. “How the fuck should I know?” he grumbled.

George’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips. “Maybe because…he’s your boyfriend?” he offered.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know how he is,” Matt snapped. “Can I sleep now?”

“What happened? Harry won’t tell me anything.”

Matt’s jaw clenched. “So he’s responding to your texts and not mine?”

George’s eyebrows rose. “What happened?” he repeated.

“Nothing,” Matt muttered, pulling the blanket over his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” George said quietly, wrapping an arm around Matt’s shoulder. “I’ll let you sleep now.”

When Matt finally fell asleep, it wasn’t refreshing or relaxing or anything, it was fitful and uncomfortable, because he couldn’t get Harry out of his head.

 

+

 

_m’back in the uk._

_japan was great…woulda been sick if you joined us._

_got a video of g trying to use chopsticks. planning on using it to blackmail him in the future._

_are you still coming to the after party in sheffield?_

Harry shoved his mobile into his pocket as he finished climbing the stairs, knocking on the door to Liam’s flat in the most obnoxious way he knew. It took less than a minute for the door to swing open and Harry pushed past Liam, kicking off his shoes before collapsing on the couch.

“Come on in,” Liam muttered under his breath before shutting the door and crossing the living area until he was next to the couch. “What’s up, Hazza?”

Harry sighed, looking up at him. “Cuddle me,” he said with a pout, reaching up towards Liam.

Liam rolled his eyes, sending Harry a fond smile, before he climbed on the couch, Harry curling against his front. “What happened?”

“I went to Australia to see Matty, yeah?”

Liam nodded.

“Well, it was fun. I mean, they’re amazing live, and I always have fun with him and the lads. I did something stupid.”

“You? Something stupid?” Liam teased, pinching Harry’s side.

Harry jerked against him, still frowning. “S’not funny, Li. I told him I loved him.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

Harry sighed. “Thought I was joking or summat,” he muttered. “Asked what happened to it just being fun.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” Liam whispered, rubbing his back. 

“S’not like I expected him to say it back, yeah? I mean, I didn’t even mean to say it—it just came out—“

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Yeah,” Harry admitted quietly. “S’not like I planned it, Li. I know—I know it’s not, like, something we can ever share with people. We’ve been careful with the media, being mates and all. But—it happened. And him saying nothing would’ve hurt less than him laughing.”

“He laughed—“ Liam sighed, shaking his head. “That’s shit, Haz.”

Harry nodded, curling closer to Liam and sighing. He felt the tears prick at his eyes and he sniffled, though it was useless because he was going to end up crying anyway. He slotted his legs with Liam’s, doing all he could to disappear from reality, but it didn’t work. 

“Have you talked to him since?”

He shook his head.

“Maybe you should.”

“Li, you’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbled.

“I am,” Liam promised. “But you should talk to him, try to get it all sorted out.”

“He’s not gonna wanna be with me anymore, is he?” Harry whispered.

Liam pressed his lips against the top of Harry’s head. “I don’t know, Haz. Ya gotta talk to him first, though.”

 

+

 

**can’t come to the party tonight. got a band thing. I’ll see you soon. xx**

Matt sighed as he tossed his mobile down on the couch in the dressing room. It had been eleven days since he’d seen Harry, and it had taken ten days for Harry to text him back. And it wasn’t for lack of trying, really, because Matt made sure he texted Harry every day, even if it was something stupid. Because it’d been months, almost six months since they started their _thing_ and they talked every day. And Matt knew Harry was still upset, and he just wanted to make it _better,_ but he couldn’t if Harry wouldn’t even talk to him. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Ross asked.

Matt frowned, pulling out his pack of fags and lighting one up. “Nothing,” he grumbled.

“You’ve been chain smoking, like, two packs a day, Matt,” Adam commented.

“Fucking sue me,” Matt snapped.

“Oi, don’t, Matty,” George interjected. “Don’t take out your mood on him. You’ve been a right wanker since we left Aus.”

Matt shrugged, taking another long drag off his fag. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Don’t think we’re stupid, Matty, we’re your best mates.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Matt repeated, a phrase he was all too familiar with.

“You have to eventually.”

“But not now,” he snapped, pulling on his jacket before leaving the dressing room. He just wanted a few minutes alone before their show, just to—he had to _think._ Unfortunately for him, he didn’t stop thinking—not during their show, not while he was meeting fans afterwards, and not when he got to the party. He was more than halfway pissed when George found him a couple of hours later, sharing a bowl with a pretty girl.

“Matty!” George announced, half-pissed and high himself, and he plopped down on the couch next to him. “Where’s Poshy at?”

Matt frowned, coughing as he passed the bowl over top of George and to the girl whose name he didn’t even ask, and he shrugged. “Not here.”

“S’not right,” George said, shaking his head and pulling his mobile out of his pocket, thumbing out a quick message.

Matt glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw he was texting Harry. “Stop,” he pouted, slapping at George’s hands. “Don’t talk to him. I’m mad at him.”

“I’m not,” George said with a shrug. “Oh. He’s with his mum. She’s in town.”

“What?” Matt snapped, reaching for George’s mobile and reading the message from Harry. “What shit. He told me he had a band thing tonight.”

George paused. “Oh.”

“M’done. I’m fucking _done,_ ” Matt grumbled, standing up and pulling his fags out of his pocket.

“Matty—“

Matt shook his head and pushed his way through the crowd of people until he found himself outside, breathing in the cool February air as his fingers struggled to find his lighter. “He’s talked to me once— _once_ —in almost two weeks, George,” he said quietly, because he knew George, knew that he had followed him outside.

George reached for the lighter in Matt’s hands, flicking it on easily and lighting his fag for him. “What happened?”

Matt took a slow drag from his fag, his fingers shaking. “Doesn’t—“

“Don’t bullshit me, Matt,” George interrupted. 

Matt paused, collecting his thoughts, taking another drag. He leaned back against the brick wall, chewing on his lip. “He told me he loved me—before he left Aus.”

George shrugged. “And?”

“And?” Matt repeated, eyes wide. “He—He told me he _loved_ me.”

“Yeah, anyone can see the lad’s arse over tit for ya, mate,” George pointed out. “Surprised it took him this long to say something.”

Matt’s stomach twisted and he finished is fag, stomping it out before reaching for another one. 

“Is that why you’re mad? Because you’re shit with feelings?”

“I’m not _shit_ with feelings,” Matt protested. 

George laughed. “Yeah, you are.”

Matt sighed, resting his head against the wall. “I hate not talking to him,” he admitted. “It doesn’t—It doesn’t feel right.”

“You love him?”

Matt shrugged, taking a slow drag from his fag and blowing the smoke out. “He’s got terrible asthma and he never complains about my smoking,” he said randomly.

“Remember when we gave him that joint?” George asked, elbowing Matt’s side and plucking the fag from his fingertips to take a drag himself.

“Yeah,” Matt said with a small grin. “He wanted to impress you lot so badly.”

George shrugged. “Worked. He’s a good one. You could do worse. Have done worse, actually,” he muttered.

Matt kicked George’s shin. “Have not.”

“Argument for another time,” George conceded. 

Matt took the fag back, finishing it off and stomping it out next to his previous one. “I think I do,” he admitted.

 

+

 

_please talk to me. i miss you._

**miss you too. xx**

_can we meet up before I go to paris?_

**we probably should…**

_i’ll call you before i leave ireland? we can arrange something then?_

**alright… xx**

 

+

 

Matt got the text message at half-one in the morning, awoken from a deep sleep at the shrill sound of his mobile ringing. Cursing under his breath at himself for forgetting to put on the do not disturb, he frowned when he saw it was a message from his mum. He thumbed it open to see a picture of his mum and Harry with _ran into your Harry tonight at Louis’ play! A good lad. You better be treating him right. x_ and he swallowed. He opened up his favorites and hit Harry’s name without thinking. It was late and Harry was probably at some ridiculous after party where everyone would be fawning over his hair and dimple, but fuck _them_ and fuck _that_ because he wanted to— _needed_ to talk to him.

_”Matty?”_

Matt froze when he heard Harry’s voice for the first time in almost three weeks, three long weeks, and he sounded hoarse, like he had just woken up, and the ache in Matt’s stomach lessened, just a little bit. “Hi.”

_”Hi.”_

“You—“ Matty sighed. “You went to see the Full Monty?” he asked.

_”Yeah, I did. It was very good.”_

“I—Why?”

 _”I knew how much you wanted to be there,”_ Harry told him quietly. _”I knew you couldn’t, so I went for you. Louis did so well, babe. He’s a natural.”_

Matt sucked in a deep breath, rolling over onto his back in his bunk, and when he felt tears prick at his eyelids, he blamed it on lack of sleep and exhaustion and nothing else. “We haven’t spoken in weeks, Harry.”

_”Yeah…?”_

“And you went to see my brother perform. My _brother,_ Harry, and you sat with my mum,” he whispered, nothing short of amazed. Because Harry was furious with him and he was still going out of his way to do something for Matty, something that he probably didn’t even deserve. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes.

 _”I wanted to,”_ he said quietly. _”Your family has been wonderful to me.”_

“I haven’t been, have I?” Matt asked.

 _”You have been,”_ Harry assured him. _”Just…a stupid fight, yeah? We can forget about it. It’s gonna—I just—Let’s go back to how it was, yeah?”_

“We can’t just forget about it, Harry. We need to talk about it,” Matt told him.

_”We don’t—“_

“We do,” Matt insisted. “Look, I—I’ll be home early morning on the 22nd. Can we meet at mine?”

 _”Erm, yeah, that—that should work,”_ Harry told him, an odd tone to his voice.

“Are you alright?”

 _”I’m at yours now,”_ Harry admitted. _”Can’t sleep anywhere else, apparently.”_

Matt smiled and he could picture it, Harry woken up from a deep sleep, curls tousled, curled in the blankets on Matt’s mattress. And he missed it, he really did, missed the thought of Harry in his flat, where he belonged or— Well, Matt wasn’t sure where _that_ came from, but still. “Stay there, yeah? And I’ll see you soon?”

 _”Two days. I—I miss you, Matty,”_ he said quietly, slowly.

“I miss you, too.”

_”Does this mean I can send you a dick pic now?”_

Matt laughed, feeling a little bit more of the tension leave his body—not all of it but close enough. “Yeah, I’ve missed those, too.”

 

+

 

It was half-past six in the morning when Harry heard the key in the lock; the door to Matt’s flat opened quickly and his heart was already pounding in his chest. He got out of bed, tugging Matt’s jumper tighter around his middle, fixing his jeans from where he had fallen asleep in them the night before, too nervous and comfortable to get up and change. He didn’t know why he was nervous, not really, because it was just _Matt,_ but it had also been three weeks since they last saw one another and, fuck, Matt looked _good._ Well, he looked exhausted and tired, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks, and his clothes wrinkled from sleeping on a plane, but—good. 

“Matty—“

Matt shook his head, dropping his bags on the floor and locking the door behind him. He kicked off his boots and made his way over towards Harry.

“Matty, I—“

Matt cut him off with a sweet kiss, framing Harry’s face with his hands, and just—savoring, really, because it had been far, far too long. He felt Harry’s hands grasp onto his waist, slipping under his shirt, and he trailed his lips along Harry’s jaw.

“Matty—“

“No,” he whispered against his jaw, nipping at the soft skin, beginning to walk him backward towards the bed. 

“Thought we were—were gonna talk,” Harry gasped out, fingers digging into Matt’s skin as he pulled their hips closer together. His calves hit the mattress and he fell back, pulling Matt with him.

Matt gripped Harry firmly, pressing down against him, his lips attached to side of his neck. He could feel Harry’s heart racing, knew it matched his own, and reveled in that. Everything was still natural between them, from the way Harry’s body curved upwards against his own to the way Harry’s fingers fit perfectly against the curve of his waist to the way Matt’s fingers tangled in Harry’s curls without a second thought. 

“We should—We should talk, yeah?” Harry asked, voice trailing off into a moan at the end when Matt’s teeth nipped at jaw again. 

“You’ve talked enough,” Matt told him.

Harry let out a little gasp, slapping at Matt’s shoulder. 

Matt pulled away, licking at his lower lip, mouth already swollen, and he stared down at Harry, tousled curls underneath his stupid little headband and big green eyes. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he asked, bucking his hips up for just a little bit more contact.

Matt rolled his eyes, hands finding Harry’s shoulders to press him down, but he allowed Harry to arch up against him. His eyes slipped shut, briefly, as his fingers dug into Harry’s shoulders. “Did you mean it?” he repeated firmly.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered.

“Say it.”

Harry licked his lips, nervous, and he shook his head. “Matty, I—“

“ _Please,_ ” he encouraged with another roll of his hips.

Harry’s head fell back against the pillow and he wrapped his legs around Matt’s waist, moaning when Matt rubbed against him slowly. “Fuck, I love you, Matty. I love you, okay? I—“

Matt leaned down and pressed their lips together, sliding his tongue against Harry’s in a sloppy, distracted kiss that had Harry moaning and writhing against him. He reached for Harry’s hip, pulling him up to slot their jean-clad dicks together, and he bit at Harry’s lower lip, pulling away slowly as Harry whimpered. “I love you, too,” he whispered. 

“Matty—“

“No,” Matt said with a shake of his head. “I should’ve taken you seriously, yeah? But you shouldn’t have shut me out. Please don’t do that again, okay?”

“Okay—“

“We gotta work things out together, Harry. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Harry bit at the inside of his cheek as he nodded, telling himself not to cry, to not even _think_ about crying, because they were having a _moment,_ dammit, and he wasn’t going to ruin it. 

“And I’m shit with feelings and all that, alright? So you just have to— _we_ have to work through that…if you want to,” he added.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. “Kiss me.”

Matt smiled, leaning down to press their mouths together again.

“Thought you were gonna break up with me,” Harry mumbled against his lips.

“Sorry ‘bout your luck, babe,” Matt whispered with a smile, kissing him, sliding his tongue along the roof of Harry’s mouth to memorize the feel, the taste of him again since it had been far too long. And Harry was just as responsive as ever, hips arching up as he tangled his hands around Matt’s neck to pull him closer. Matt reached up for Harry’s hands, pulling them down and pinning him against the bed. 

“Matty,” Harry whined. “C’mon, wanna touch you.”

Matt shook his head, pressing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Lemme show you, yeah?”

“Show me what?”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “How much I love you,” he said easily. 

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine as he nodded. “Okay,” he said, hips bucking up as Matt traced a hand down the front of his chest. 

Matt stopped and reached up, pushing Harry’s shoulders flat against the bed, holding him still as he ground their hips together. Harry's cheeks were flushed, eyes slipping shut as he let out a breathy sigh. Matt's hand slipped down Harry's stomach again, pushing his jumper— _Matt’s_ jumper—over his hips and abs until it was tucked underneath his armpits. Harry reached for him and Matt frowned, grabbing his shoulders again and pinning him back down. "Hold still. Am I gonna have to tie you up or summat?"

Harry's eyes flew open, dark and blown with lust, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip. "Ya want to?"

Matt stilled, hesitating, jerking back to reality when Harry lifted his hips to rub their jean-clad dicks together. Matt didn't stop him that time, still somewhat lost in the thought of tying Harry to the stupid bed frame.

"Matty," Harry whined, attempting to reach up to him but Matt's fingers were tight on his shoulder, keeping him pinned. He settled for wrapping his fingers around Matt's forearms, stroking his skin slowly until their eyes met again.

"Yeah, I—Can I?" Matt asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips, his heart hammering in his chest.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

Matt bit his lip and nodded slowly, releasing Harry’s shoulder and he sat back on his knees. He grabbed the bottom of his jumper, tugging it over his head and tossing it aside. He pulled Harry’s bandana off of his head, straightening it out, and he met Harry’s eyes once again. Harry nodded, tongue wetting his lips, and Matt reached for his wrists, pulling them over his head. “Comfortable?”

Harry nodded again, his flush extending from his neck to dance over his collarbones. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Matt said quietly, looping the fabric of his bandana around his wrists and the headboard, tying the knot securely. He made sure Harry could still move, just a little bit, just enough so it wasn’t painful, and he leaned back to admire his work. Harry’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, and Matt smoothed his hands across the bare skin, pinching one of his nipples along the way, and Harry’s back arched.

“Matty—“

“Shh,” he whispered, fingers stopping just above the waistline of his jeans. Harry arched up against him and Matt reached for his hips, steadying him, before he climbed off of the bed. He ignored Harry’s whine as he stripped quickly, tossing his clothes aside, and he reached for the zip of Harry’s jeans, discarding his jeans and pants as swiftly as he could. He reached over the mattress, shoving his hand underneath it until his fingers wrapped around the bottle of lube he had shoved under there weeks before. He frowned when he saw it was half-empty and he raised an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry shrugged, best he could, still flushing. “What? I missed you.”

Matt smiled pressed his lips against Harry’s hipbone, shoving the lube aside and he slid his hands up the back of his thighs, pulling at his legs until his feet were flat on the bed. He trailed his lips over the planes of Harry’s stomach, across the ink, until he could wrap his lips around one of his nipples. 

Harry gasped softly as Matt’s tongue laved over the sensitive nub, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock and jerking him slowly. Harry’s hips arched as Matt moved his lips across his sensitive nipple, licking and sucking a dark mark against his pale skin. Part of Harry wished his hands were free so he could reach for Matt, and twist his fingers in his long hair, while his mouth worked his chest, his thumb barely swiping over the leaking head of his dick. 

Matt nibbled at Harry’s nipple, causing a shiver to run down his spine, and he leaned up to brush their lips together quickly. Harry whined when Matt pulled away, sinking back against the bed when Matt jerked him off just a little bit quicker, squeezing at the base, and Harry’s eyes slipped shut. Matt pressed his lips against the inside of Harry’s thigh, nipping quickly, before licking his way down, teasing his balls before mouthing at the sensitive skin below. 

Harry moaned as Matt’s tongue slid across his hole at the same time he thumbed the head of his cock, smearing the drops of precome along his palm and jerking him off quicker. It had been weeks since Harry had gotten off properly and he could already feel the tension building in the pit of his stomach; he tossed his head back against the pillow as he felt the tip of Matt’s tongue dip into him, his legs wrapping around his neck. “Matty, I— _Fuck,_ ” he whimpered as Matt’s tongue lapped across his hole, dipping and teasing until Harry came with a cry of his name.

Matt pulled away slowly, kissing at Harry’s hipbone again as he watched the boy come down, cheeks painted a pretty pink and his lips swollen and bitten red. Harry’s chest rose and fell gently as Matt stroked him through his orgasm, spunk coating Harry’s abdomen. Matt reached for the bottle of lube, flipping it open, squeezing some onto his fingers. He slicked them up quickly, pressing them against Harry’s hole, hearing the younger boy whimper. He slid two fingers in quickly, feeling Harry relax around him almost instantly, and he leaned down to wrap his lips around the head of his dick, dragging his tongue along the slit.

“Matty—“ Harry gasped out, hips arching off the bed weekly as he wrapped his fingers around the wrought-iron post of the bedframe. He whimpered as Matt’s fingers relentlessly pressed against his prostate, his tongue tracing the thick vein on the underside of his cock until he felt himself getting hard again, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Matty, I can’t—I can’t—“

Matt pulled off of Harry’s dick, licking his lips slowly. “You can,” he whispered, encouraging as he withdrew his fingers from Harry’s body. Without missing a beat, he pressed the head of his dick against Harry’s hole, pushing in slowly. He gripped Harry’s knees, holding his legs apart as he rocked into his body slowly until he bottomed out. Harry’s leg twitched as Matt rocked their hips together, ankles crossing behind Matt’s back, and Matt gripped Harry’s hips, pulling him off of the bed, sliding deeper inside of him.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry moaned as Matt began to thrust into him slowly, pulling out until just the head of his cock was pressed against Harry’s hole, feeling his thighs shake on either side of him. Without preamble, he thrust back in, nudging against Harry’s prostate and causing Harry’s dick to throb painfully against his abdomen. They didn’t do it often— _this_ —because it was almost too much, almost, and Harry was already whimpering and thrashing against the mattress as Matt wrapped his fingers around him again. 

“Can ya come again for me, babe?” he asked, sliding his hands to the back of Harry’s thighs, pressing his legs forward until he was nearly folded in half. 

Harry let out a string of curses and whimpers, Matt’s name falling from his lips, as he shook his head. “Matty, fuck, I—Oh, _God,_ I—“ he cut himself off as Matt rocked into him harder, hooking his leg over Matt’s shoulder.

Matt leaned down to press his lips against Harry’s chest, wrapping his fingers around his dick and jerking him off quickly. He could feel the tension building in his own stomach and he knew he was close. When he looked up at Harry, seeing his flushed and tear-stained cheeks, he came with a low grunt, stilling for a moment. He felt Harry’s thighs clench around him and he pulled out slowly, replacing his dick with two of his fingers, pressing incessantly against Harry’s prostate. 

“Matty—Matty, please, wanna come, wanna come _so bad,_ oh my God,” Harry rambled, tendons in his arms flexing as he pitifully tried to free his hands from the bandana. He wanted, needed to touch Matt, touch _something,_ just something to hold onto. 

“Come on, babe,” he encouraged before he slid his tongue along the base of Harry’s cock, up towards the head and over the slit.

Harry whimpered as Matt’s tongue continued to assault the sensitive head of his cock, sucking and lapping until he came with a broken cry, releasing over Matt’s fist, bits of spunk landing on his cheek. Harry collapsed back against the bed with a sniffle, breathing heavily, his heart racing. He mewled as Matt pulled away slowly, leaving him empty and cold, until he felt the warm line of Matt’s body curling around his side. He forced his eyes open in time to see Matt biting his lower lip as he untied the knot of Harry’s bandana, freeing his hands, and Harry reached out to wipe a bit of his spunk away from Matt’s cheek. 

Matt reached for Harry’s wrist, sliding his tongue across his fingertips without breaking eye contact. Harry’s eyes widened as Matt moved his lips down to his wrists, kissing the slightly swollen and red skin until Harry was nuzzling against his neck. “Good?” he asked softly, his voice a little lower and rougher than normal.

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Good. Back in a mo,” Matt promised, pressing a swift kiss to Harry’s forehead before he climbed out of his embrace, walking towards the bathroom. He returned with a wet flannel, wiping down Harry’s stomach and thighs until he was whimpering again, pushing at Matt’s hands.

“Too sensitive, Matty,” he whispered, trying to curl around himself and push Matt away at the same time.

Matt grinned, kissing Harry’s shoulder. He walked back to the bathroom, dumping the flannel on the floor before removing his contacts, reaching for the spare glasses he kept in his flat. When he got back to bed, Harry was curled up in the blankets, only his hair peeking out at the top. He laughed softly before lifting up the blanket and crawling in, setting his glasses on the floor by the bed. 

Harry wrapped an arm around Matt’s waist, pulling him closer and resting his head on his shoulder. He nuzzled against Matt’s neck again, lips pressed against the warm skin, and he felt Matt threading his fingers in his hair. “I love you,” he whispered softly, because the moment felt right, and he just—he _did._

“I love you, too,” Matt told him, dragging the blanket back up to their shoulders. And he was probably shit with feelings, most definitely, feelings and emotions and the like. And he had never wanted to not be, never wanted to try for anyone, but. Harry made him _want_ to try and that didn’t just count for something, it counted for _everything._


End file.
